


909

by antineutrinos



Series: 1 in 24 [3]
Category: Hat Films - Fandom, Yogscast
Genre: Angst, Gen, Introspection, Pining, Teenage AU, salty smith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-14
Updated: 2017-11-14
Packaged: 2019-02-02 14:16:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12728175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antineutrinos/pseuds/antineutrinos
Summary: Smith’s hands are cold. His blood is boiling.(teenage au)





	909

**Author's Note:**

> can you tell I’m angsty about winter??? I don’t really know what this is but sure fuck it
> 
> but yeah. kudos + comments, very much appreciated. tumblr is @antineutrinos if you want to see some memes. thank u
> 
> (very slight reference to suicide?? just in case)

Smith loosens his school tie. It’s striped, green and grey running parallel to each other. He drags his shoes against the ground, scuffing them.

Trott is walking next to him. He’s bundled up in his school coat, and when he breathes, it comes out in clouds in front of him. He’s talking a mile a minute about who knows what, but Smith isn’t really listening. He digs his hands into his pockets and keeps walking.

It’s getting cold, now. The sky’s getting dark and Smith wishes he took his mother’s advice and wore a T-shirt under his school uniform. He hates the cold. He hates it. Hates coming home to a cold house, with cold beds and cold food and cold everything. The heating never seems to work quick enough to stop the cold running underneath the window frames. It sneaks in, slips into Smith’s shoes and slides around the back of his head till he’s frozen to the bone.

Trott is still chattering away, and they’re still walking. Sometimes Smith hates Trott, too. He hates how Trott is so smart. So _smart_. He hates the way he has to flip his hair constantly to keep it out of his eyes. Hates how he cracks his knuckles constantly, each _pop_ and _crack_ perfectly enunciated. Hates it. Hates him.

Smith blinks. He doesn’t _really_ hate Trott. Just wishes he could. He brings his hands up to his mouth, breathes out hot air. It warms them, for a moment, before that too is replaced with cold.

They’re almost at Trott’s house, now. He doesn’t live far from the school, but they move slowly when it’s cold.

Smith doesn’t know why he’s in such a bad mood- maybe it’s just been too much for too long- but in a way, it’s satisfying. He knows it shouldn’t- but he’s hardly going to enjoy feeling this way about his best friend, who, of course, is probably straight- not that it’s something they talk about-

He watches as Trott murmurs _see you, mate_ , before heading up his driveway. There’s an odd feeling in Smith’s chest, crawling up and strangling him till it feels like he can’t breathe. Trott turns round to wave, silhouetted as he stands in the front door of his house. There’s a triangle of light cast outside, yellow and glaring.

 _What was the French homework?_ Smith calls. The words feel like sandpaper in his throat. _I don’t know_ , Trott calls back, _see you tomorrow_. One last wave and the door shuts. The light’s gone, and everything’s shrouded back in darkness.

Smith starts walking again, alone this time. He loosens his school tie. Some days, it feels more like a noose.

 


End file.
